The Peggy and Steve Show
by theicemenace
Summary: A series of short AU/Tags centered on Peggy and Steve. They may jump back and forth through time, depending on which plot bunny demands attention. Some will feature Steve without Peggy, Peggy without Steve, as well as other characters, and their relationship to either Peggy and/or Steve.
1. Take My Hand

**A/N:** The timeframe for this AU/Tag is after _The Avengers_ , and before _Captain America: Winter Soldier_. There may be spoilers.

Namaste,

Sunny

" _Just take my hand and let us dance under a chandelier of starlight_."  
― Trevor Driggers

 **Captain America**

 **The Peggy and Steve Show**

 **Take My Hand**

As Steve reached the third floor, he saw Peggy's nurse, Mary coming out of the room carrying a bundle of clothing, and a tablet. The quiet click told him that Peggy was asleep. Mary turned, and smiled. "Good evening, Captain Rogers." She looked him up and down. "You look good in uniform."

"Thanks." He returned the smile, nodding over her shoulder. "How is she?"

"She has her good days and bad days. Today was more in the middle." Her eyes dropped to the duffle bag in his left hand, and back to him. "You can go in, if you like. Sit with her until she wakes up. It won't be long."

Steve waited until Mary had padded down the hall to the nurse's station to open the door and slip inside. Only the bedside lamp provided illumination. He set the box on the floor, and went to the window, parting the curtains just enough to be able to see the sky. The moon was a little more than half full, and just rising above the roofs of the taller buildings. Stars twinkled as if dancing to a tune he couldn't hear.

The curtain dropped back into place, and Steve sat down, letting his eyes roam around the room. Something was missing. He just couldn't put his finger on what it was.

Peggy's hands lay on top of the covers. Her snow-white hair had been done in a forties style. Instead of a frilly cotton nightgown, she had on a red dress that resembled the one she'd been wearing the night Steve introduced her to Bucky. Due to her medical condition, she sometimes thought the war was still on, forgetting the intervening years. His presence didn't help. He was a reminder of a time when Hitler and Schmidt tried to take over the world, often killing those who got in their way.

Many times, Steve's visits were cut short by Peggy falling asleep, or suddenly not remembering who he was. On those occasions, she would insist they didn't know each other, and demand that he leave her room. He looked down at the duffle bag. Tonight, it would be different.

He opened the bag, and lifted out a crystal chandelier. Its design featured curved arms, with decorative carvings, and dangling crystal accents. Unlike those Steve had seen in stores, Tony had used real crystal in order to get the desired effect. It also featured four bulb holders, each of which held a flame-shaped bulb. Tony had created it after catching him about to order a cheap imitation online.

Steve removed the overhead light fixture and bulb, and set them aside. Calling Tony's instructions to mind, he inserted the chandelier into the socket, and tightened it. The remote in his pocket would turn it on. He set his phone on the table by the window, and waited.

A few minutes later, Peggy's eyes fluttered open.

"Peg?" Her smile immediately brightened his world.

"Steve. You're here. It's so good to see you. General Phillips tried to tell me you were dead."

"The General was mistaken." He sat on the side of the bed, gently taking her hand. It looked so frail compared to his. "You promised me a dance, Peggy, and I'm here to collect." He shut off the bedside lamp, and used the remote to turn on the chandelier, and the music. Getting to his feet, he waited for her to fold the covers out of the way, and swing her feet over the side.

"Oh dear. I seem to have lost my shoes." Steve went to the closet, and came back with a pair of black heels. He crouched in front of her, slipping on one then the other. Standing, he took her hands, and helped her up. She swayed, and nearly fell, grabbing hold of the sleeves of his Army uniform he'd borrowed from the museum exhibit, with the permission of the curator, of course.

Peggy smiled up at him. "You always look so handsome in your uniform, Steve."

One side of his mouth turned up. "Had to look good for my best girl. Ready to go dancing?"

"But you don't know how to dance."

"A friend taught me."

She smiled knowingly. "It was Howard, wasn't it? That man cut quite a few rugs in his time."

His dancing teacher had been Tony, not Howard. But the who wasn't important. All that mattered was making Peggy happy. "You got it."

Moving slowly out to the open area at the foot of the bed, he held Peggy in the classic dance pose, swaying side to side as Glenn Miller's _Moonlight Serenade_ filled the room.

The crystals reflected the light in ever-changing patterns. Steve remembered the song had been one of Peggy's favorites. In the pub where the Howling Commandoes had spent much of their downtime, he once saw her standing in a corner with her eyes closed, moving her head to the beat.

As the song ended and the next one started, Peggy stumbled, and he held her against him so she wouldn't fall. She lay her head against his shoulder, and he could feel her trembling from fatigue.

Steve picked her up, still holding her close. Her arms went around his neck, and her head onto his shoulder. Dooley Wilson's smooth tones swirled around them as he moved around the room as if they were on the dance floor.

 _It's still the same old story_

 _A fight for love and glory_

 _A case of do or die._

 _The world will always welcome lovers_

 _As time goes by_

 _Oh yes, the world will always welcome lovers_

 _As time goes by._

The last note faded away, and Steve shut off the phone as he carried Peggy back to the bed. When he made to put her down, she tightened her arms. "Please hold me a little longer, Steve. I'm not ready for you to leave just yet."

"How could I decline such a charming request?" He sat in the chair with her curled in his lap, her warm breaths hitting him on the side of the neck.

She shifted position, and was still again. And just when he thought she'd gone to sleep, she whispered, "Do you love me, Steve?"

"You know I do, Peg."

"When did you know?"

The conversation was long overdue, yet Steve found himself reluctant to verbalize his feelings. For her sake, he did. "When you punched Hodge in the nose for being a…"

"Jackass? I remember." Peggy's chest expanded and contracted where they touched. "I knew on the ride back to HQ in the back of the jeep."

Though she couldn't see his face, Steve held down the sentimental smile that tried to come out at her admission. The flag incident happened a few short days before he'd been given the serum.

Then, the night before the procedure, he'd been lying in his bunk with the lights out, unable to sleep, thinking about everything Dr. Erskine had told him.

Steve was alone in the medical barracks when Peggy had startled him by suddenly appearing. She pulled the privacy curtains closed, and sat on the side of his cot, their hips touching. He jumped when she touched him on the cheek, and leaned down to kiss him, pulling away before he could respond.

"I want us to be together tonight, Steve." His eyes had gone wide when she stood, and her fingers working loose the belt tied around the waist of her Army-issued raincoat. She had pushed the material off her shoulders, and it fell to the floor in a khaki green heap. Underneath, she wore only a skimpy satin nightie that stopped at mid-thigh. She kicked off her shoes, and he looked down at her feet. Her toenails had been painted bright red. He found it oddly erotic. Not just the color, but that she would take the time during a war to give herself a bit of pampering.

Steve mentally rolled his eyes at the memory of his reaction to a nearly-naked Peggy standing beside his bed. He propped himself up on his elbows, looked her up and down, gulped, and blurted out, "You sure you're in the right place, Agent Carter?"

She'd leveled a sexy, smoldering gaze on him, and smiled. "Absolutely."

"Really?"

She moved closer, standing with all her weight on one foot, holding out her right hand. "Really. Take my hand, Steve."

Steve had done as she asked, and when he was rousted awake the next morning, Peggy was gone, the events of the night a blur. Her scent, Evening in Paris, lingered on his sheets, and skin. Later, in the cab, he'd been nervous about the procedure, and about being this close to her after their night of passion. Though he'd been instructed to shower, he hadn't. He wanted the reminder of their time together to stay with him just in case the experiment failed.

Though she was being discrete, Steve still heard her sniffing the air. And when he looked over at her, she had smiled knowingly, making him blush.

Getting to his feet, Steve carried Peggy to the bed, and this time, she didn't stop him. He lay her down, removed her shoes, and pulled the covers up to her chest. She took his hand, and urged him to sit next to her again.

"I'm sorry it took so long for us to figure it out, Steve." She brought his hand to her lips and kissed the knuckles. "We should get married when the war is over."

Stunned, Steve almost bolted, but managed to keep the movement to a shifting of his feet. "If that's a proposal, Agent Carter, I accept."

"We'll have two children. A boy named after my father, and a girl named after your mother."

Steve clasped her hand with both of his, smiling with happiness, hoping Peggy wouldn't see the underlying sadness that none of this would come to pass. "I have a counter offer. Two boys, one named after your father, and the other named after Bucky, and a girl named after my mother."

"Deal." Peggy brought her free hand up over her head to adjust the pillows, and Steve jumped up to help. When it was done to her satisfaction, he resumed his seat on the side of the bed, and held her hand until she'd gone to sleep. He lay her hand with the other on top of the sheet, and stood.

He packed the chandelier in the duffle bag, replaced the old fixture and bulb, and switched the bedside lamp on.

Steve stood there watching Peggy until a light knock on the door jolted him out of the past, and back to the present. He picked up the duffle bag, and opened the door to Mary's smiling face. "We talked for a while. She's gone back to sleep."

The nurse stepped past him into the room and went to the dresser. "That's fine. When she's ready to get dressed for bed, she'll let me know.

Mary opened the second drawer, and pulled out what Steve assumed would be another of those cotton nighties she favored these days. However, that was not the case. In her hand, Mary held a small bundle of folded satin in the same midnight blue color that she had worn their one and only night together.

Covering the mild shock by rubbing the end of his nose, Steve stepped out into the hall. "Let her know I'll be back in a week or so."

"I will, Captain Rogers. Watch yourself out there."

"You do the same, Mary."

Steve pulled the door shut, taking a moment to collect himself before rushing down the stairs, out the front door, and across the parking lot to his car. He tossed the duffle bag in the back seat, got in, and left, his mind churning.

At home, he set the bag on the floor by the bedroom door, and went to get a beer from the kitchen. He popped the top, tossed it on the counter, and carried the bottle and the bag into the bedroom.

Setting the bottle on the dresser and the bag in the chair, he opened the top drawer, and took out the box that contained all his medals and awards. He plucked out the dog tags lying on top. Rubbing his thumb over the raised letters, Steve looked at himself in the mirror, and sighed.

 **The End**

 _Moonlight Serenade_ is an American swing ballad composed by Glenn Miller with subsequent lyrics by Mitchell Parish. It was an immediate phenomenon when first released in May 1939 as an instrumental arrangement.

 _As Time Goes By_ is a song written by Herman Hupfeld in 1931. It became most famous in 1942 when part of it was sung by the character Sam (Dooley Wilson) in the movie _Casablanca_.


	2. Because of You

**A/N:** The timeframe for this AU/Tag is during _Captain America: The First Avenger_. There may be spoilers.

Namaste,

Sunny

" _If I know what love is, it is because of you._ "  
 **—** Herman Hesse

 **Captain America**

 **The Peggy and Steve Show**

 **Because of You**

"Whatever happens tomorrow, you must promise me one thing. That you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier, but a good man," Dr. Erskine demanded.

Steve held up his glass to make a toast. "To the little guys."

As he was about to drink the schnapps, Dr. Erskine gasped out, "No! No! Wait! What am I doing? No. You have a procedure tomorrow. No fluids." He snatched the shot glass from Steve, and poured the contents into his own.

"Alright. We'll drink it after."

Erskine waved a hand. "No. _I_ don't have procedure tomorrow. Drink it after? Drink it now."

When Erskine had gone, Steve removed his shoes, socks, and pants, turned out the light, and lay in his bunk. He was too nervous to sleep for thinking about everything Dr. Erskine had told him about the possible effects of the serum. If it didn't work, he'd be no worse off than he was now, unless it killed him. If it worked… well, he'd deal with that when it became an issue.

Alone in the medical barracks, Steve closed his eyes, hoping he'd at least get a little sleep before morning. He thought he heard a noise, dismissing it as an overtaxed imagination. Then the privacy curtains parted. Peggy smiled at him over her shoulder as she pulled them closed again, and came to sit on the side of his cot with their hips touching. Without speaking, she touched him gently on the cheek, and leaned down to kiss him, pulling away before he could respond. To say he was surprised would be an understatement.

"I want us to be together tonight, Steve."

She stood up, her fingers working loose the belt tied around the waist of her Army-issued raincoat. The coat fell to the floor in a khaki green heap, and underneath, she wore only a skimpy satin nightie that stopped at mid-thigh. Her body moved side to side as she kicked off her shoes, drawing his attention to her feet. Her toenails had been painted bright red, which he found oddly erotic. It wasn't just the color, but the fact that she had taken time during a war to give herself a bit of pampering. Something to remind herself that not only was she a soldier and an agent, but also a woman. The only incongruity to the lovely vision of a nearly naked Peggy was the presence of her dog tags.

Steve propped himself up on his elbows, letting his eyes skim from her feet up to her face. He gulped, and blurted out, "You _sure_ you're in the right place, Agent Carter?"

Peggy leveled a sexy, smoldering gaze on him, and smiled. "Absolutely."

"Really?" He wasn't convinced.

"Really." She moved closer, standing with all her weight on one foot, holding out her right hand. "Take my hand, Steve."

He did as she requested and soon they were snuggled together under the covers. She rubbed the side of one foot up the front of his thigh as her hand skimmed over his chest to the waistband of his boxers. They kissed, and he separated their mouths when her hand continued its journey. "Why are you here, Agent Carter? I mean, I know _why_ you're here. I guess the question is why _now_ and not after the procedure?"

Rising up on one elbow, she smiled, and tilted her head to the side, her free hand toying with his dog tags. "Under the circumstances, you should call me Peggy. And we're doing this now so that, no matter what happens tomorrow, you'll always know that no matter how tall or how strong you are, or what you look like, it's _you_ I care about. I want to lie next to you, and listen to the beat of your heart. I want to close my eyes, and fall asleep in your arms. I want to feel you next to me, and forget that the war, and the world, exists. At least for tonight."

Honored at her words, and feeling greatly daring, Steve pulled Peggy's dog tags free of the satin so he could read them. "Bucky says you can't die if you're wearing the wrong dog tags."

Her smile was indulgent, and sweet. "I've heard that. It's part superstition, part joke, I think."

Steve agreed. They kissed again, as he urged her onto her back with him above her. Peggy's hands, warm and gentle, lightly trailed over his ribs, pushing the material of his shirt up to his armpits. They parted long enough for her to remove the shirt, and kissed again.

~~O~~

From the tentative way Steve handled her, Peggy could tell that this was his first time being intimate with a woman. His hand touched her thigh, stopping just under the edge of her nightie. She placed her hand over his, and smiled. He took the hint, and continued.

After a while, she no longer had to guide him, and soon they were awash in sensation, and passion.

~~O~~

When she was certain that Steve had gone to sleep, Peggy carefully lifted the covers, and put one foot then the other on the cold floor. She retrieved her nightie, slipped it on over her head, pulling it down over her bottom as she stood. Her feet went into her shoes while she closed the front of her coat and tied the belt.

For a long moment, she watched Steve sleeping. He rolled onto his back, his dog tags clinking together. What he said earlier about not dying while wearing the wrong dog tags gave her an idea. She removed the shorter chain from Steve's dog tags, and exchanged it for hers. Now they would take something of each other with them wherever they went.

Peggy gave Steve one last lingering look, closed the privacy curtains, and returned to her quarters.

~~O~~

Steve was alone when Colonel Phillips rousted him out of bed. Though he didn't remember doing it, sometime during the night, he'd put on his t-shirt and boxers, thankful that he didn't have to explain why they were on the floor, or Peggy's presence in his bed.

He gathered clean underclothes and a fresh, crisp uniform from the closet, and went into the bathroom to change. Combing his hair, he noticed that his dog tags looked odd. The one on the smaller chain was different than the other. Holding it up to the light, he read the imprint stamped into the metal:

 _Carter, Margaret E._

 _London, England_

 _Blood type: O-_

 _Religion: Non-denominational_

It didn't take a genius to understand why she'd exchanged tags with him. As honored as he'd been when she came to him last night, the small gesture warmed him like sunshine on a cloudy day.

At the secret base in Brooklyn, just before he went into the pod, Steve touched Peggy's hand, discreetly, so she wouldn't get in trouble. "Thank you for last night."

She pursed her lips to keep a smirk from forming. "My pleasure. Literally."

Erskine helped him into the pod, gave him an injection of penicillin, and closed the door.

And his life was never the same.

 **Later**

Schmidt was getting away, and Steve had to stop him. He was the only one. There wasn't anyone else on earth who could match Schmidt in a physical fight. Colonel Phillips drove the car with Peggy in the passenger seat and Steve in the back, chasing the plane. He climbed onto the plane's landing gear, mentally preparing himself to kill Schmidt, but only if he had to.

Peggy grabbed his jacket, and pulled him to her for a kiss. Just before she let go, she whispered, "I know what love is because of you, Steve."

Startled, he stared at Colonel Phillips. " _I'm_ not gonna kiss ya!"

The plane took off, and somehow, deep inside, Steve knew that would be the last time he and Peggy saw each other.

 **End**


	3. Extinction Averted

**A/N:** Timeline is before _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_. Spoilers!

This chapter came from a meme found online. Don't remember the originator's name.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **The Peggy and Steve Show**

 **Extinction Averted**

"How is it any of _your_ business, Tony?" Steve crossed his arms, glaring at his teammate and sometime friend.

The billionaire poured himself three fingers of scotch over ice-five cubes exactly, stoppered the bottle, and returned it to the shelf behind the bar. "All I'm saying is you haven't been on a date in more than seventy years. Not that that's a _bad_ thing, as long as you have a friend with benefits."

Confused, Steve's eyebrows drew together over his nose. "Friend with benefits?"

"A friend that you get together with now and then for a little…" he waved the glass, "…stress relief. No muss, no fuss, no emotional entanglements."

Steve finished his beer, tossed the bottle in recycling, and stood. "I would never disrespect a woman that way. That's _your_ MO."

Rhodey joined them, hitching one hip on the back of the sofa that faced the lap pool, his tone sarcastic. "Haven't you heard, Tony? Every time Captain America has sex, a bald eagle is born."

Tony swirled his glass, the ice clinking against the sides, a glint of humor in his eyes that matched his friend's. "That explains why they're almost extinct."

Annoyed and frustrated with the team's interest in his relationships with the opposite sex, Steve put on his jacket, picked up the shield, and headed for the lift. "I'm out of here."

~~O~~

Driving aimlessly through the streets of Brooklyn, Steve mentally cringed. The city had changed so much since he and Bucky were kids that he barely recognized it. The heavy traffic annoyed him, so he pulled over, and parked the motorcycle in front of a café.

As he sat down at an empty table on the patio, he wondered why he was upset that his friends were speculating about his love life, and couldn't come up with a good answer. That's what friends did. Bucky had done it, but then Bucky had known who and when Steve was dating.

A shadow fell over the table, and a menu was placed at his elbow. "Welcome to the Plaza Café. What can I get you to drink?"

Steve opened the menu, as stunned at the prices now as he was the first time he'd eaten out. "Just coffee."

The waitress left to place his order with a mild huff, and Steve realized too late that he'd been rude.

Looking up at the skyline, he had the urge to draw for the first time since waking up inside SHIELD HQ. He took a pencil from his pocket and began sketching Stark Tower on the back of the placemat. The waitress set a cup near his right hand, and filled it from the carafe. Engrossed in his sketch, didn't acknowledge the woman as he brought the cup to his mouth for a sip and returned it to the table.

When he finished drawing the city's skyline with Stark Tower as the centerpiece, Steve finally looked up at the woman who'd been so tolerant of him parking himself at one of her tables for so long.

The uniform of white shirt and black pants did nothing to hide her curvy figure. She was near thirty, with wavy dark hair below her shoulders, parted on the left. Reddish streaks on the sides highlighted her lightly tanned face. Her eyes were vivid green, and the dimples in her cheeks gave him the sense that she was an overall happy person.

The name tag over her left breast said, "Joi". She wore sparkling stud earrings in each lobe, a watch, a heart shaped pendant, and two rings on each hand, none of which resembled wedding or engagement rings.

Steve took out his wallet. "I've taken up enough of your time. I should go."

She smiled while filling his cup again. "No need. The table's yours as long as you want it." Flashing a smile that showed straight white teeth, she picked up the menu. "We also have free wi-fi."

Confused, Steve blurted out, "Radio?"

That smile seemed to have a hidden message as she moved on to the next table. When she moved out of earshot, the old man sitting at the next table poked his shoulder. "Ask for her number, moron."

Steve ignored him, made a few additions to the sketch, folded it and pushed it into his pocket just as Joi returned with his check. She flashed him a cheeky grin, one eyebrow raised, as she walked away, and when he turned the check over, it was blank except for the words, _On the house. Call me. Joi_. Her phone number was across the bottom.

The scrap of paper went into his wallet so he wouldn't lose it, and the old man gave him a thumbs up as he walked away. Steve got on the bike, and headed out again. A few blocks later, he pulled into the parking lot of a pharmacy, took out his phone, and the paper, taking a few breaths to get his nerve up. The last time he'd asked a woman on a date, one that hadn't been set up as a double by Bucky, was a month before his friend had shipped out with the 107th Infantry. And it had been a disaster, like always. Before he could change his mind, Steve dialed, one heel tapping on the pavement as he listened to it ring.

" _Hello?_ "

"Joi? This is Steve. Steve Rogers? We met at the café?"

Her voice held a note of amusement mixed with surprise. " _I remember you, Steve, Steve Rogers. You're the coffee-drinking artist who doesn't know what wi-fi is. Didn't expect to hear from you so soon._ "

Steve smiled sheepishly though she couldn't see it. "Then we have something in common, because I didn't expect to call so soon." He got off the bike to pace. "Would you like to have dinner one night this week? Or next week. You know, whenever you're, uh, you're free."

" _I would. My days off are Sunday and Monday. Hold on a moment_." Muffled voices came through the phone, and she was back. " _Instead of dinner, we could have a picnic in the park Sunday, and make the rest up from there. That work for you?_ "

"Yes, it does, Joi. What time should I pick you up?" Inside, Steve was grinning like a fool. This was only the third time he'd asked a woman out, and she said yes. Hopefully, this one would turn out better than all his other dates.

The tinkling of glassware knocking against each other and voices calling out orders provided background noise to their conversation. " _I'll text you the address. Say two-ish?_ "

In his mind, Steve translated the time to 1400 on the dot. "I'll be there. What would you like to eat?"

" _Leave that to me, Steve, Steve Rogers. I got it covered._ "

"Good. I'll see you Sunday then." He ended the call, and stood there staring at the phone. If Bucky were still alive, he'd call and tell his friend that he'd managed to get a date on his own, and that it was _her_ idea.

In his head, Steve heard Bucky's voice saying, " _Does she have a friend for me?_ "

The phone went into his pocket as he got back on the bike, and continued his ride through the old neighborhood.

 **Several Months Later**

Following an intense team practice, the Avengers gathered in the penthouse of Stark Towers for dinner, drinks, games, and conversation.

Tony circled the pool table, working out his shot. He'd broken, and sunk two balls. He also had to make the best of what would probably be his only shot at the table.

Across from him, Clint had his phone out, tapping out a message while still keeping an eye on the table. Not that Tony would cheat. Didn't have to, he was that good, or so he thought until he went up against a guy whose nickname was Hawkeye, and had been taken to school in royal fashion the previous two games. He would've forfeited, but his pride had been injured, and needed healing. Besides, they had a bet, and Tony didn't like losing.

He chalked the end of his cue, rested his left hand on the table, bent at the waist, and prepared to shoot. Behind him, Clint, Rhodey, and Natasha were snickering, though Tony got the idea they weren't doing it to disturb his concentration.

"I'm trying to play a game here." The noise continued, and Tony'd had enough. Rhodey and Natasha were looking over Clint's shoulder, reading the display on his phone, and glancing over at Steve. He held the cue upright in his right hand, giving a moment's thought to smacking the trio on the ass with it. "What's so funny that you three reprobates gotta mess up my bet-winning shot?"

Rhodey waved dismissively. "It wouldn't interest you, Tony."

Natasha shook her head. "Don't be so quick to judge, Rhodey. Let him read the article, and make his up his own mind."

Tony leaned his cue against the table, and held out his hand, making a hurry up motion, and Clint slapped the phone into his palm with a smirk.

Using his thumb, Tony scrolled through the article that had posted not more than an hour before. He handed the phone back to Clint. "It's good news. _Why_ would you clowns find that funny?"

Rhodey pointed his chin at Steve. Recalling their earlier conversation, Tony ambled over, and picked up his beer, eyeing Steve while taking a drink. Clint, Natasha and Rhodey had come up on either side.

Steve's eyes swept over the group, using a mild glare. "Something I can do for you?"

Faking nonchalance, Tony perched on the arm of the sofa. "We just read an article about bald eagles making such a remarkable comeback, that they've been removed from the endangered list."

Natasha crossed her arms, shifting all her weight onto one foot. "And if Rhodey's theory is correct, that a bald eagle is born every time Captain America has sex…"

One hand in his pants pocket and the other holding the phone, Clint grinned. "So, we were wondering…"

Steve had to know they were waiting for him to say something, but the super-soldier wasn't the kiss-or anything else-and tell type.

That's why the group was surprised into speechlessness when Steve merely smirked, raised an eyebrow, and took a long drink of his beer.

 **The End**


	4. Don't Cry

**A/N:** The timeframe for this AU/Tag is before _The Avengers_. There may be spoilers.

This chapter comes from a meme I found online.

Namaste,

Sunny

" _He was cold, calculating. Never told me he loved me. Never even told me he_ _liked_ _me, so it's a bit hard for me to digest that he said the whole future is riding on me thing. I don't get that! You're talking about a man whose happiest day was shipping me off to boarding school_." ~ Tony Stark about his father, Howard Stark, _Iron Man 2_

 **Captain America**

 **The Peggy and Steve Show**

 **Don't Cry**

The first visit Steve made to see Peggy Carter, Tony went along, and waited outside. It wasn't Tony's usual day to visit, and she confused so easily these days. It was going to be bad enough just seeing Steve, who hadn't aged a day in seventy years, and having him there too would only make it worse.

Peggy's nurse opened the door, and motioned for Steve to enter. The woman closed the door, leaving them alone. She smiled at Tony, and walked down to the nurse's desk.

Tony stood next to the door like a body guard waiting for his charge to come out of the bathroom so they could go onto their next destination. He tried not to listen, but couldn't help it. At first, Peggy cried at seeing Steve alive after all this time. Then she slipped into the past, talking about Colonel Phillips, and asking when Howard would be back from his trip.

Steve did his best to go along with whatever she said. Tony could tell it wasn't easy, but you did what you had to for those you cared about. His relationship with his father had been combative, belligerent, and querulous, to say the least. On more than a few occasions, Mom had to step between them to end the shouting. They'd nearly come to blows a few times, and again, his mother ended it before it got that far.

He still cared what happened to the woman who'd gotten his dad involved with the government and their secret projects. It was a relationship that continued to this day, just in an altered form.

The door opened, and Tony heard Peggy's quavering tones admonishing Steve, "… _and tell Howard to come see me. He hasn't been to visit in ages_."

"I will, Peg."

Steve closed the door, and stood there staring at the tops of his shoes for a long time. Then, without a word, he headed for the stairs, and Tony had to hustle to keep up.

In the parking lot, the men stood next to Steve's motorcycle. "I don't get it, Tony. How can such a brilliant mind be gone just like that?"

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Old Man, but it doesn't happen overnight. The form of dementia Carter has is characterized by a slow decline over a period of years. Then, one day, she can't remember where she lives, the year, or even the names of her children and grandchildren, yet she recalls events that happened more than seventy years in the past with perfect clarity." Steve kicked a rock, and nodded. "Seeing you after all this time threw her for a loop. I'm surprised her family gave the okay."

Steve put on his sunglasses, and stared into the distance. "Do the doctors know what causes it?"

Tony waggled his hand. "The cause of Alzheimer's disease is up for debate. Some say it's genetic, others say the cause can be traced to head injuries, depression or even high blood pressure. There are lots of theories, but all researchers agree that there are no drugs or supplements that will decrease risk, and no treatments that stop or reverse the progression. Some may improve symptoms temporarily, but the fact remains that there's no cure. Diagnosis to death is anywhere from three to ten years."

In an uncharacteristic show of what some might call affection, Tony gave Steve's shoulder a comforting squeeze. "SI is involved in some R&D, and I'm picking up the financial slack to make sure she has the best care possible."

"Thank you, Tony."

He waved away the gratitude by putting on his sunglasses and taking out his keys. "Least I can do for the woman who introduced my parents to each other."

~~O~~

Tony got into his car and drove away, leaving Steve standing next to his motorcycle, wallowing in self-pity. He didn't know what to expect when he and Peggy saw each other again. He knew her approximate age, though he hadn't expected this level of deterioration of her mental function. To him, Peggy would always be vibrant, and full of life. Gung-ho, some called it. Whatever it was, she had it, and made him believe in himself when no one else did, including Colonel Phillips. At least not until he'd proven himself by rescuing Bucky and over four hundred other prisoners from Schmidt and Zola's house of horrors they called a lab.

He straddled the bike, started it up, and went for a long drive to clear his head.

 **Three Days Later**

Once again, Tony found himself standing outside Peggy's room, alone on this occasion. Each time he came to visit, it felt like he was being granted an audience with a celebrity. Not that Peggy ever treated him as less than a friend. It was like meeting your idol, and finding out that she was more kind and compassionate than you ever expected her to be.

He made one last breath check, smoothed the sides of his hair and beard, buttoned the front of his suit jacket, all the while muttering under his breath, "Don't cry. Don't cry. Don't ******* cry."

It was a mantra that helped him get through these visits. He knocked on the door, and heard a tremulous voice call out, "Come in."

 _Don't cry_. With a smile, Tony opened the door, stepped inside, and closed it again. He reminded himself once more that he was doing this for her, and to honor his parents. "Hello, Peg." He went around to the side of the bed closest to the window, leaning down to kiss the cheek she presented to him. "You're looking killer-diller, as always."

Sitting on top of the covers, propped up with pillows, and wearing her favorite red dress, hair perfectly arranged, red lips pursed in a smile of welcome, Peggy took hold of his hand, inviting him to sit next to her on the bed. "Howard! What a nice surprise."

 _Don't cry_. _Don't cry_. _Don't you ******* cry!_

 **Fini**


	5. Stupid Shit

**A/N:** The timeframe for this AU/Tag is during _Captain America: The First Avenger_ , and after _Captain America: Civil War_. There may be spoilers.

The inspiration for this chapter comes from a meme that has been posted to both Pinterest and Tumblr. Don't know the name of the artist. If you're an Avengers fan, you've probably seen it.

Namaste,

Sunny

 _Never underestimate the power of human stupidity_.

~ Robert A. Heinlein

 **Captain America**

 **The Peggy and Steve Show**

 **Stupid Shit**

 **Stark Expo**

 **New York City**

 **1943**

Angry that his best friend, the one person who knew him better than anyone, didn't understand his powerful need to be a soldier, to serve his country, Steve shook his head. "…there are men laying down their lives. I got no right to do any less than them. That's what you don't understand. This isn't about _me_."

"Right," Bucky deadpanned, "'cause you got nothing to prove." Shaking his head, Bucky continued talking as he turned away. "Don't do anything stupid 'til I get back."

Anxious to end their argument on a high note, Steve grinned. "How can I? You're taking all the stupid with _you_."

Finally, there it was: Bucky's smile as he walked back. It was the same one he used when he was treating Steve like a little kid. "You're a punk."

Steve muttered in Bucky's ear, "Jerk." As Bucky walked away, Steve called out, "Don't win the war 'til I get there!"

Bucky saluted, turned and joined Connie and Bonnie, whom he had promised to take dancing. Watching him go, Steve got the strange feeling that this might be the last time they saw each other. And if it was, at least they parted on good terms.

 **Wakanda**

 **Present**

Bucky moved the fingers of his new vibranium alloy arm, watching the plates in the forearm shift, bringing a surge of power. "Looks and feels great, doc."

"If you experience any strange symptoms or malfunctions, have me paged immediately."

"I will, and thanks."

The doctor inclined his head in acknowledgment, pushing the cart with his tools and instruments, as Steve took his place, standing with his arms crossed. "How's the head feel? Any different than before Wanda removed the trigger words?"

He jumped off the table, and the friends headed for the exit. Steve opened the stairwell door, and they started down. Bucky waved a hand next to his head, the left one so he could get used to using it again. "Yeah. Can't really describe it though. It was like I had this weight pressing me down, but inside my brain." Looking down at the tautness of the t-shirt as it pulled around the left arm and shoulder, he tugged, trying to get more room. "The only time I seemed to get relief was through intense physical activity. Running, lifting weights," he dropped into a boxer's stance, "hitting the punching bag."

As they made the landing between the fifth and sixth floors, Steve snorted. "That's not all muscle, Buck. I've seen you eat."

Bucky flexed his biceps, showing off their firm bulges. "Take _this_ , punk."

"Jerk."

Above them, a door opened, and light footsteps came running down. They looked up as Clint joined them. That infuriating smirk turned up one side of his mouth when he saw them. "Got something for you, Barnes."

Surprised, Bucky pointed at himself. "Me?"

"Yeah." He held out a stack of papers, and Bucky took them. "I know you prefer old school, so I wrote it by hand. And no jokes about my handwriting, Cap. I've seen yours."

Steve held his hands up in mock surrender. "Not a word."

Bucky, meanwhile, had been looking over the papers. Clint had numbered them in the top right corner, and his handwriting had that backward slant of someone who was left-handed. The archer headed back up the stairs, and Bucky called out, "Wait!"

Clint hung over the railing going up to the next landing, looking as if he were in a nest of some sort. "Yeah?"

"What _is_ this?"

"Cap told us about the Stark Expo, and how you told him not to do anything stupid while you were gone." Clint indicated the papers. "That's a list of the stupid shit Cap did while you were gone."

Looking to his right, Bucky saw Steve's expression of guilt and contrition. He muttered under his breath, "Uh-oh."

Bucky shuffled through the pages again, turning them over to glance at the back. He looked daggers at his best friend. "This is _twelve… *******…. PAGES_ , Steve!" Bucky rolled the stack in a tube and smacked Steve on the back of the head. "Single spaced, _and_ double sided!"

Clint disappeared up the stairs, his mocking laughter echoing around the two friends.

As he read the pages, Bucky paced in the small space of the landing between floors. "…you jumped on a _grenade_? Seriously, Steve? A grenade? And this was _before_ the serum." Bucky kept reading, becoming angrier with each second. "And what the holy **** is this?! You jumped out of a plane without a parachute, not once, but on…" he did a quick read-through, "… _seventeen_ different occasions?!"

Steve slowly backed away, but when he turned to run, Bucky's new and improved vibranium arm grabbed the back of his collar, and pulled him back. "Shit, Steve! Ten ****** floors! You jumped out of an elevator that was stuck on the ******* _tenth floor!_ "

Unable to fathom that his friend had done so many things that could've gotten him killed, Bucky sat on the stairs, elbows on his knees, and head in his hands. "I-I just don't… How could… It's-It's like I don't even know you anymore."

The space next to him was filled with Steve's bulk. Bucky gave him a side-eye death glare, and Steve looked away. "Maybe I did all that stupid shit because _you_ weren't there to stop me."

After a long moment of silence, Bucky asked, "Did you _really_ get a tattoo of the American flag on your ass?"

For an answer, Steve stood, turned his back, and dropped his pants, leaving Bucky staring at… Steve's perfect ass. His pants came back up, and he returned to his seat on the stairs. "Barton's a smartass."

"Yeah, I know." And just like that, all, or rather most of his anger bled away. Shaking his head, Bucky chuckled, and bumped Steve with his metal shoulder. "Punk."

Steve bumped him back, grinned and shook his head. "Jerk."

 **The End**


	6. My Heart is a Compass

**A/N:** The timeframe for this AU/Tag is during _Captain America: The First Avenger_ and _The Avengers: Age of Ultron_. There may be spoilers.

Some of the dialogue has been translated from Italian to English.

No Beta on this one so all mistakes are mine.

Namaste,

Sunny

 _My heart is a compass, and it always leads me back to you_.  
― A. Zavarelli, Stutter

 **Captain America**

 **The Peggy and Steve Show**

 **My Heart is a Compass**

 **Italy**

 **July, 1944**

One hand on the butt of his service weapon, Bucky roamed through the small store, careful not to show too much interest in any one item for fear that the proprietor would raise the price. He'd already chosen what he wanted, but the cost was already high for his miniscule budget. This particular piece had the virtue of being personal, as well as practical. It only needed one small change to make it perfect.

Bucky was still getting used to his best pal's new look, as well as the fact that women now fell all over themselves to speak to Steve. As far back as he could remember, Bucky, himself, never had a problem getting a date. Now, he was passed over in favor of Steve, especially by the beautiful Agent Peggy Carter.

 _I'm invisible. I'm… I'm turning into you. It's like some horrible dream._

Steve had grinned, and slapped him on the shoulder. _Don't take it so hard. Maybe she's got a friend._

He was happy for Steve. Really. His life-long pal had almost no experience with the ladies, and now a killer-diller dame had gone khaki whacky over him, and made no effort to hide it.

As Bucky came around to the display cases at the register, the proprietor gave him a welcoming smile, speaking in Italian. "Good evening, sir. Can I help you find something?" His smile widened. "A trinket for a special lady, perhaps?"

Bucky responded in the same language, speaking well enough for the man to understand. "It's for… I guess you could call him my CO. It's his birthday."

"Ah." The man moved down to the end, opened the back of the display, and took out a faded and battered box. "I have just the thing."

He carefully opened the box to show the contents. It was perfect, or nearly so. Feigning disinterest, Bucky asked, "How much?"

"For anyone else, fifty thousand liras. But for you, twenty-five thousand."

Bucky mentally totaled up the money he'd painstakingly saved over the course of several months. "I'll take it." He pulled a wad of crumpled bills from his pocket and dropped them on the counter. "I'll pick it up Monday."

"What name should I put on the invoice, sir?"

"Barnes. Sergeant Bucky Barnes."

 **Tuesday Evening**

The Howling Commandoes were treated with respect everywhere they went, as long as it wasn't Nazi-occupied territory. Tonight, it was just Bucky and Steve at their favorite watering hole. They drank beer, ate the local cuisine, and generally had a good time.

Then, the cook came out carrying a beautifully decorated cake with the words " _Buon Cumpleanno_ " written in a fancy script. Confused, Steve took in his friend's self-satisfied grin. "What's going on?"

Bucky poked him with his elbow. "It's July fourth, Steve. Your birthday."

Shaking his head, Steve chuckled. "Didn't realize the date." He blew out the candles, and there was much laughter and conversation over the slices of cake.

When the food was gone, Bucky handed Steve a cloth wrapped bundle tied with string. "Happy birthday, Stevie."

He gave his best friend a look of mock reprimand. "What's this?"

Grinning smugly, Bucky picked up his beer. "It's not a birthday party without a gift. Now open it, punk."

Steve pulled on the string, and set it aside while he peeled back the sides of the cloth. He opened the box, and found a compass. Steve flipped it open. The thumb loop and bezel ring were made of real brass, not the fake stuff so many companies were using these days. He flipped up the sighting slot and lens. The device was old, Steve guessed World War One, or older.

Then, he saw what was in the other side, where the sighting wire belonged. He clenched his jaw to keep from gapping at the photo of Peggy, embarrassed that his affection for her was so obvious that his friend would include her photo.

Steve looked up to see Bucky grinning, still with that glare of smugness that seemed to cling to him. He leaned back, waving offhandedly. "I know you'd rather have one of _me_ , but I could only find one of your favorite dame."

They stood together, and Steve gave Bucky a back-slapping hug. "Thanks, jerk."

 **Present**

Standing at the window, looking out over the grounds of the Avengers compound, Steve held the compass in his hand, wondering, not for the first time, where his friend had gone after pulling him from the Potomac River.

The black and white photo of Peggy, though faded after all these years and from being under the ice, still showed that little spark of humor in her dark brown eyes.

On his last visit, Peggy hadn't even known him. She thought he was Jack Thompson, one of her co-workers at the SSR. During the course of their conversation, Steve learned that Thompson had a dark past, was an opportunist, a borderline misogynist, and had ambitions to become head of the SSR.

After leaving Peggy at the nursing home, Steve had gone to SHIELD and found out that Thompson had been shot by an unknown assailant who'd taken several files from the SSR's New York office, of which he was head. It was a position he'd been given after taking credit for Peggy's work in defeating Leviathan. If the man were still around today…

"Look alive, Old Man. We got another hit on the scepter."

Steve closed the compass so Tony wouldn't see the photo, surreptitiously tucking the device into his pocket. "Tell the team to suit up."

"Already done. Just waiting for our esteemed leader to get his head out of the clouds, and join us."

Scowling at the mild reprimand in Tony's tone, Steve walked away without comment. In his room, he took one last look at Peggy's photo, closed the compass, and dropped it in a drawer, effectively closing the door on the past.

 **The End**


	7. The Stork Club

**A/N:** The timeframe for this AU/Tag is after _Avengers: Age of Ultron_. There may be spoilers.

Namaste,

Sunny

 **Captain America**

 **The Peggy and Steve Show**

 **The Stork Club**

The roaring of the engines almost drowned out Steve's voice. " _Peggy?_ "

"I'm here." Peggy's voice was strained, emotional, but she couldn't help it. They both knew if this didn't get done, millions of people would die.

" _I'm gonna need a rain check on that dance_."

She sniffed, injecting false cheerfulness into her voice. "Alright. A week, next Saturday, at the Stork Club."

" _You got it._ " Hearing the smile in Steve's voice helped somewhat.

"Eight o'clock on the dot. Don't you dare be late! Understood?"

He hesitated, and Peggy almost lost it. " _You know I still don't know how to dance_."

Knowing this would be the last time they spoke tears welled up in her eyes. "I'll show you how. Just be there."

" _We'll have the band play something slow. I'd hate to step on your-_ "

Static burst out of the speakers, drowning out Steve's voice.

Frantic, Peggy heard her voice rising. "Steve? Steve?" A single tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. "Steve?"

Static greeted her as Jim Morita's hand squeezed her shoulder.

 **The Stork Club**

 **3 East** **53rd Street**

 **Manhattan, New York**

 **Winter 1945**

 **Saturday Night**

The doorman opened the cab, and extended his gloved hand. Peggy allowed him to help her from the back seat. She leaned in to pass the driver several bills, and turned toward the entrance of the Stork Club.

Tucking her purse under her left arm, she strode confidently up the stairs, and into the club. For a few moments, she stood in the doorway simply taking in the music and laughter, wishing Steve was here to enjoy it with her.

Across the room stood "Saint Peter", the head waiter who determined who was allowed entry into the legendary Cub Room. With her chin in the air, Peggy weaved between the tables. As she approached, the man nodded and smiled. She returned it, and just like that, she was granted entrance to Sherman Billingsley's inner sanctum.

The first item of interest to catch her eye was the famous Table 50 where Walter Winchell wrote his columns and broadcast his radio program. The great man himself was in attendance, holding court with a dozen of his most trusted friends.

Another man came forward, bowing slightly at the waist. "Is madam dining alone tonight?" His tone told her what he thought of women who dined out without a male companion.

"No, madam is _not_. My date is meeting me here." Again, he bowed, making an after you gesture as he showed her to a table that was nowhere near the dance floor. Peggy looked around, and shook her head. "This won't do at all. I think we would prefer the main dining room." Aghast, the waiter just stared. No one had ever declined an invitation to the Cub Room. She would be the main topic of gossip among the staff, but she didn't care.

"If that is your wish. This way, madam."

He turned toward the door, and she stopped him with a haughty toss of her hair. Injecting just the right amount of ice into her tone, Peggy breezed past him. "Don't bother. I know the way."

Within moments, she was seated in an out of the way corner where she could see the band, and watch the dancers. A waiter came around with the menu, and a glass of water. "What would madam care to drink? Or would you prefer to wait for your guest?"

"Madam is dining alone. She also prefers that the staff mind their own business." Properly chastised, the man ducked his head. "Dry martini. Shaken, not stirred, with three olives."

Before long, the drink was set in front of her, and the waiter disappeared once more. Peggy sipped the drink, returned it to the table, and picked up the menu. Though she wasn't hungry, she ordered the Filet Mignon Capuchine.

The band was playing _Frenesi_. Not one of her favorites, but it would do for now. Closing her eyes, she imagined dancing with Steve, teaching him the proper way to hold a woman, feeling the whisper of his warm breath stirring the hairs at her temple, and the buttons of his dress uniform pressing against her chest.

Her soldier's instincts told her she was being watched, and when she opened her eyes, five familiar faces stood around the table. Five men, all decked out in the dress uniforms of their respective militaries, smiled down at her, covers tucked under one arm. DumDum Dugan, Gabe Jones, Monty Falsworth, Jim Morita, and Jacques Dernier.

With Steve and Bucky both gone, DumDum had become their spokesman. "Agent Carter, ma'am, Captain Rogers would've wanted us to make sure you had a good time tonight."

Her smile was genuine and heartfelt. She stood, and took the hand of each man. "Thank you so much, gentlemen. Do join me." The waiter rushed over, his opinion of her situation, a single woman sharing a table with five men, carefully hidden. "Bring my companions…" one side of her mouth turned up as her eyes met each of theirs, "…Commando Cocktails."

When the waiter returned, the men gave their meal orders. As the waiter turned to go, he was stopped by Peggy. "Be sure to bring all the meals together, even if that means remaking mine."

Jacques spit a few words in French, which Gabe translated. "He said 'and don't forget the wine'."

The waiter bowed. "Of course, sir."

~~O~~

After dinner was over, the band played several upbeat tunes while DumDum excused himself. He came back a short time later, but instead of sitting, he held out his hand. "I know I'm not Steve, but could I have this dance Peggy?"

"I would be honored, Timothy." With a smile, she took the offered hand, and the couple moved out onto the dance floor just as the current song ended, and the next one began.

Throughout the night, Peggy danced with each of the men, some slow, others fast, and by the time they headed for the door, she felt as if she really could go on without Steve. She would miss him every day, but having his friends around sharing stories of the man the world knew as Captain America eased the pain for all of them.

 **Paley Park**

 **3 East** **53rd Street**

 **Manhattan, New York**

 **Present**

 **Evening**

Steve stood at the entrance to what had once been the Stork Club. Now it was called Paley Park, though it wasn't really a park, not in the traditional sense. White marble tables and wire mesh chairs lined both sides. Trees devoid of their leaves stretched bare branches to the sky. Hardy vines, called vertical lawns, covered the walls on either side. At the far end, a white waterfall flowed, sounding like a gentle rain pattering on the roof.

On the other side of the street, music came from a night club with a forties theme. Tonight, they were featuring tunes from _Broadway Melody of 1940_. Steve remembered seeing the movie with Bucky and his sister, Becca for her birthday. When they got home, he and Bucky had entertained Becca by doing a parody of Eleanor Powell's _All Ashore_ dance routine, tap dancing so hard that the downstairs neighbors had banged on the ceiling.

A wave of nostalgia overcame Steve. They'd barely been teenagers when Bucky taught him to tap dance so they could enter a school talent contest together, and had come in third place.

He took off his uniform cap, and laid it on a chair. Moving to the open area near the stairs, he swayed through the opening then went into his tap dance, making it up as he went. He brought it to a rousing finish by sliding down the handrail on his butt. There was a smattering of applause from passing pedestrians. Steve smiled, and bowed.

Sad that he and Peggy hadn't met for their date, Steve replaced his cap, turning at the sound of a familiar voice.

"Hey, soldier. How about a dance?"

Natasha was standing at the bottom of the stairs, all weight on one foot, and the other knee slightly bent. She wore a black dress that hugged her curves, emphasizing them while appearing to minimize her appeal. Didn't work. A small black hat with a net veil on the right side of her head matched her black open toed heels. Dramatic forties make-up completed the chic and sophisticated image.

He joined Natasha, and she indicated the club across the street. "I'm not Peggy, and that's not the Stork Club, but you deserve to have the date you missed, Captain Rogers."

Returning her smile, Steve extended his elbow. "I would be honored, Agent Romanoff."

As they entered the club, he removed his cover, and took in the décor. While not completely authentic to the era, he silently praised their efforts.

They were shown to a table near the dance floor. Steve held Natasha's chair then seated himself to her left. A waiter came around for their order, and returned with a couple of Sidecars.

Natasha lifted her glass, and Steve did the same. "To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die."

They touched glasses, and drank, after which, they gave their attention to the dancers and the band. Some were quite good, while others tried hard. All were having fun, and that's what counted.

The song ended, and the dancers applauded. The lights dimmed, indicating a slow, romantic song. Steve closed his eyes, and a vision from his past played through his memory.

He was in a jazz club sitting at a table for four next to a woman with whom Bucky had set him up. As always, it hadn't gone well. He'd asked her to dance, but she declined, more politely than others in the past. For that small courtesy, he'd silently thanked her. That is until he came out of the men's room later, and found his date dancing with Bucky.

Natasha touched him on the arm, giving it a comforting squeeze. Steve patted her hand, and it was withdrawn. The song ended and another came on, this one slow as well. It was one of his favorites, _Begin the Beguine_. Steve stood, and held out his hand. "May I have this dance?"

Natasha smiled back. "You may."

He led her to the dance floor, holding her close, but not too much so. As they moved around the floor, he felt Natasha humming along. Until now, he hadn't remembered that Peggy had a habit of humming a song when she was daydreaming.

 _When they begin the beguine  
It brings back the sound of music so tender  
It brings back a night of tropical splendor  
It brings back a memory ever green_

 _I'm with you once more, under the stars  
And down by the shore, an orchestra's playing  
And even the palms seem to be swaying  
When they begin the beguine_

And though he knew it was wrong, just for a few moments, Steve closed his eyes, pretending that Natasha was Peggy, that the year was 1945, and this was the Stork Club.

 **The End**

 _Frenesí_ is a musical piece originally composed by Alberto Domínguez for the marimba, and adapted as a jazz standard by Leonard Whitcup and others. The word _frenesí_ is Spanish for "frenzy".

 _All Ashore_ is from the movie _Broadway Melody of 1940_. Words and music by Roger Edens, and is sung by Eleanor Powell.

The sidecar is a cocktail traditionally made with cognac, orange liqueur (Cointreau, Grand Marnier, Grand Gala or another triple sec), and lemon juice.

 _Begin the Beguine_ is a popular song written by Cole Porter, who composed the song between Kalabahi, Indonesia, and Fiji during a 1935 Pacific cruise aboard Cunard's ocean liner _Franconia_.

A Beguine was originally a Christian lay woman of the 13th or 14th century living in a religious community without formal vows. In the creole of the Caribbean, especially in Martinique and Guadeloupe, the term came to mean "white woman". Then it came to be applied to a style of music and dance, and in particular a slow, close couples' dance. This combination of French ballroom dance and Latin folk dance became popular in Paris and spread further abroad in the 1940s, largely due to the influence of the Porter song.


End file.
